The Roast of Batman
by The Cleric
Summary: What happens when the heroes of the Justice League gather for the first and last Roast of Batman? Add in a restless reporter (hell-bent on exposing the Bat's secret identity), an anxious Amazon (determined to remain above the rhetorical fray) and a felonious feline femme-fatale (I can just say Catwoman)? One thing's for certain: the League has *never* had a night like this.


It was the single largest gathering of superheroes to take place on American soil since the Martian invasion. As such, every precaution had been taken to ensure security. Roving uniformed guards were just the most obvious- their plain-clothed counterparts were literally everywhere. From the old man shuffling along on his walker to the young career woman with her face buried in a Blackberry, undercover security personnel were as thick as thieves.

The venue, like the guards, had been generously supplied by Bruce Wayne. Kane Hall, located in the heart of Gotham's downtown district, had seen more than its share of concerts and performances by world class celebrities of every stripe and color. None had ever come close to matching this night's event in terms of exclusivity or ticket demand. Even at four hundred dollars apiece, seats had sold out within the first five minutes of bidding. The ticket sales alone were generating beacoup dollars for the Thomas and Martha Wayne Foundation.

Vicki Vale, for her part, was lucky to be in attendance. The _Gotham Herald_ , number one in readership and her current employer, tended to frown on shameless publicity stunts like this. They reported _real news_ , dammit, she could practically hear her editor thundering. But print was a dying industry. Real news came at more people over Twitter and blogs and crazy uncles' Facebook posts. Hence the online livestreaming news service that the _Herald_ had launched: The _Gotham Gaze_. Was it news? Well, unlike its prestigious progenitor, the latest sham celebrity wedding was _not_ beneath the _Gaze_ 's intrepid reporting. Nor were the periodic spurts of breathtaking insanity that seemed to grip more and more aging actors like a pandemic of midlife crises.

Nor was a "roast" involving superheroes. Even if there were doubts that such a thing could ever be genuine.

Oh, for at least some of them, it was the real deal alright. Superman had been featured in some of the commercials, and his was a presence that one could hardly fake. Black Canary, the Flash, even Wonder Woman had endorsed the event. They were going to subject the Batman to merciless ridicule on national television and livestream. And they were going to give the proceeds to charity.

Even with the backing of bona-fide superheroes, many were skeptical about the one who truly mattered. Batman? Agreeing to something like this? The man was more myth than mortal, a dark, elusive urban legend both feared and idolized by the masses. The thought of him sacrificing his time and dignity in such a fashion, even for homeless orphans, beggared credulity.

Her editor certainly had doubts. He thought it far more plausible that Bruce Wayne had simply paid some of the Justice League to endorse this farce. Directly or indirectly, the billionaire playboy certainly had a lot to gain from the deal. The exclusive broadcast rights belonged to the ComicStar channel, a subsidiary of the Wayne-owned Brightstar Entertainment Corporation. The licensing buy-in was obscene. It would be enough to bankrupt the fledgling _Gaze_ , were it not for the near-guarantee that every ratings record was about to be obliterated. Charity or not, Batman or not, the filthy rich playboy was about to get even richer.

Vicki had entirely different perspective on Bruce Wayne, however. He was a liar alright, and a skilled one at that. But he wasn't lying about being able to produce the Batman.

No, she was fairly that he _was_ the Batman.

* * *

 **Backstage. . .**

"Dressing rooms," remarked Catwoman from the backstage mirror she'd staked a claim to for the past half hour. "They do take me back. . .high school theater and all that."

Wonder Woman, or as she was growing to prefer, Diana, looked up from the notecards she had prepared. She didn't know if she was more surprised that the infamous Cat-woman had lived the mundane life of high school dramatic productions (the raised-by-feral-she-cats theory was her personal favorite). . .or that the other woman was talking to her.

She regarded Catwoman, who was busy with the finishing touches of her makeup. Like most of the heroes, Catwoman was in full costume. Up close, the outfit seemed far more practical than it did from afar. Not just a kinky bodysuit. Though it clung to the woman's lithe figure, there were clearly all manner of weapons and gadgets artfully concealed within the recesses of the catsuit. Interesting.

"I said-"

"I heard you." Diana looked away. "High school, right? Coming from a hidden island of warrior women, I suppose I wouldn't know."

Catwoman laughed at that, swiveling in her chair. "I suppose you wouldn't, darling."

Mutual silence. It was no secret that the two women disliked each other, and it was no secret that the source of that mutual disdain traced back to a singular event: The Interview.

* * *

 **Two months ago**

It was her first team-up with the Justice League and Catwoman had acquitted herself well, pickpocketing Felix Faust's Daxamite Rubies before the sorcerer could use them to summon an extradimensional demon. Pretty much a standard day for the Justice League, but a game-changer for Catwoman. Her star had never shone brighter and unlike the do-gooders in the League, she had no problem giving vanity interviews to the media.

"Catwoman," the blonde interviewer had begun, "some have said that it was your quick thinking that saved the day, recovering the Daxamite rubies Felix Faust was using for his incantations. How did it feel to play the heroine?"

"A lot better than being eaten by a hundred-foot demigod."

"Now there does seem to have been a discrepancy between the number of rubies stolen by Faust and the number recovered at the scene. Is it possible that some were. . .misplaced during the fracas? Some of your critics have said that given your history-"

Catwoman waved the inquiry away with a flourish of her gloved hand. "Darling, if I listened to every pseudo-intellectual keyboard warrior who slandered me, I'd never have time to so much as make breakfast in the morning. Why focus on the petty things? Ten rubies? Twenty rubies? What does it matter, considering the catastrophe that I and the Justice League helped avert?"

This was where the important part came. "And what about your personal life, Ms. Catwoman? Is there a Mr. Catwoman?"

A wince. "Not by that dreadful name."

"Perhaps a pointy-eared boyfriend, _also_ based in Gotham City?"

"Ah." A sly chuckle. "You mean Batman and I?"

"There _are_ unverified reports of the two of you canoodling on rooftops."

A Cheshire-esque smile. "Well, _this_ kitty does not kiss and tell. But let me put it like this, cat and mouse gets so dreadfully boring after a while. One could hardly blame the Batman for giving in to something he's wanted all along."

Diane Newslady or Megan Primetime or whatever her name was could barely keep herself seated. This was ratings gold. "And what about the rumors linking Batman to Wonder Woman? Think the Amazon might be creeping on your turf?"

Catwoman let out husky, sensual laugh. "I am who I am and she is who she is. But at the end of the day, I think it's obvious what _he_ wants." Her voice dropped to a sultry whisper. "He wants the bad girl. Not the lost little princess. Even if she can fly."

Diana, watching the interview in her apartment, had nearly dropped the 5-ton dumbbell she was lazily curling. At which point, Catwoman would have insulted her, _and_ jettisoned her security deposit.

Not cool, as the Flash was fond of saying. Not cool at all.

* * *

 **And so back to the present day. . .**

Diana ignored the inconsequential small talk. She had a question of her own, since it appeared the two women were now on speaking terms. "Catwoman, what are you doing here?"

A laugh. "Well, I plan to have a few laughs at Batman's expense. And, he invited me of course." Her voice turned wistful. "I admit, I was skeptical at first. But at the end of day, that body. . .that voice. . .truly one of a kind, isn't he?"

Diana stared, the corners of her mouth turned down in abject stupefaction. "Zeus's beard, you can't possibly. . .actually talk like that in _person-_ "

Catwoman rolled her eyes, and when she started speaking the sultry purr in her voice had flattened into a more normal-albeit annoyed-tone of voice. "Like you don't have a persona to maintain, Princess."

"None that I erect merely for the appreciation of men," Diana shot back.

"Oh?" Catwoman set down her mascara brush and turned to face the Amazon defiantly. "There isn't a damn thing I do or say that isn't first and foremost for me. Not that I should have to explain myself to the Onepiece Wonder."

Diana was sorely tempted to return the barb in kind. But rhetorical combat wasn't exactly her forte. She folded her arms. "Did Batman really invite you?"

A nod. "He told me what tonight is _really_ about, too."

Diana tried to disguise her surprise. "A lot of trust to have in a common thief."

Catwoman smirked. "Nothing common about this thief. I've _earned_ it." She was going back into sultry femme fatale mode. "But you should stop dancing around the issue. Say what it is you really want to say to me."

"And what do you imagine that to be?"

"That I should stay away from your man." Catwoman squared her shoulders, practically daring the Amazon to deny.

She was actually somewhat surprised when Wonder Woman laughed. A short outburst of unbridled amusement, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. "I'm not here for a man any more than you are. Even if you pretend otherwise."

With that, Diana turned and walked away.

"Huh." Catwoman chewed her lip thoughtfully. The Amazon was clearly in no mood to be baited into a catfight. Not as fun, but then the Amazon was also a terrible liar. It was obvious she was carrying a bit of torch for the Dark Knight. Whatever had or hadn't happened between Batman and Wonder Woman (and she would put money on the _hadn't_ ), the Amazon's feelings poured out of every word she said.

Funny, how someone could make balloon animals out of titanium rods and pulverize mountains, but still not know the first thing about men.

"Should be an interesting night," she mused aloud as she put the final touches on her lipstick. "Very interesting indeed. . ."

* * *

Vicki Vale had cut her journalistic teeth on red carpet shenanigans. Oscars, Emmys. . .she hated them all with the passion of a thousand fiery suns. Still, boss's orders were boss's orders, and if she wanted to be kept in the loop for the night's proceedings, this was the way to gain access.

The tabloids would have a field day just from the pairings of superheroes and vigilantes on processional display. The Flash was accompanied by a faintly familiar green-haired woman in a glittering emerald dress. Fire, if memory served her correctly. The Brazilian superhero and Flash? Since when had that been a thing? Several other 'journalists', and this was stretching the word, shouted inquiries about any updates to the Scarlet Speedster's relationship status. To no avail. The Flash, uncharacteristically coy, merely smiled and waved. Maybe he'd let something slip later on in the night, she thought. After all, he was the night's host.

Other guests soon followed. Vixen and Green Lantern took an inordinate amount of time on the red carpet, and Vicki would have bet a month's pay that knockoffs of Vixen's designer gown, a blazing red backless number, would be sold out within a week. Such was the power of a supermodel-cum-superheroine to alter the trajectory of global fashion.

A commercial break ended and she was back on the air. She plastered on the biggest, fakest smile in her arsenal and stepped to the side to give viewers a better angle of on the walkway. "Welcome back! Vicki Vale here for the entertainment event of the year, the roast of Batman! Already, the august personages of the Justice League have begun to fill the front rows of Kane Hall, arriving not only by limousine but also more. . .unconventional methods. Here, we have Justice League founding member Hawkgirl, descending from the skies. Ladies and gentlemen, that dress may be Louis Vuitton but the strap on her wrist is connected to five pounds of pure Thanagarian Nth metal. Hawkgirl's stylist has her ready to beat the men off with a stick, and there's no doubt in this reporter's mind that she could do just that." _Ugh._

The cameraman panned to the newly arrived Hawkgirl, sparing just a moment to give Vicki a commiserating 'sorry kiddo' smile. She just wished the damn heroes would arrive already. If she had to keep up with this asinine commentary too much longer, she'd be too embarrassed to show her face on the air again.

 _Just hang in there, Vicki. It's just for tonight._

The camera's unblinking gaze swung back, and her momentary respite ended. She rolled her eyes at the gossipy tidbit that sprouted on her teleprompter, but dutifully did her job. "Readers of our daytime blog will already know of the juicy rumors regarding Hawkgirl and the Green Lantern. Sources close to the League have confirmed enough sexual fission between the star-crossed ex-lovers to power a city, with no end in sight. While the Green Lantern and Hawkgirl have reportedly declined seats on the guest dais, there's no doubt that they will cross paths on this superstar-studded night. And we'll be here to bring you all the details. This is Vicki Vale with the Gotham Gaze. Stay tuned, and we'll be right back."

* * *

"Hey Chuck! Steve, how's it going buddy? What's happenin' Janet, love the new haircut!"

Wally West, aka the Flash, was perfectly in his element, schmoozing and mingling with ease as he made his way to the center stage of the grand ballroom. He was used to these kinds of shindigs, given the fancy galas his home city was always throwing him. Also, having a woman like Fire by his side could do wonders for a man's confidence. He could still scarcely believe she'd agreed to escort him. Or that she found seemed to find all of his jokes funny.

It was a good sign, Hawkgirl had once told him, when a woman laughed at your unfunny jokes.

He felt a light tug on his arm and turned to see his date looking at him expectantly. "Wally," she began, "I want you to promise me something."

He gave her his patented thousand-gigawatt smile. "Anything babe."

"Don't be too mean to Batman, okay? I have seen these 'roasts' on TV and they're so vulgar!"

Wally's head cocked quizzically to the side. "Why the concern? Batman can handle himself."

"Oh, I know. It's you I'm worried about. Batman's a scary guy when he's pissed off."

Wally, a bit miffed, affected all the nonchalance he could muster. "Nothing but harmless teases, I promise. And if worse comes to worse, I think I can outrun a batarang."

Fire said nothing, but she still held on to his arm as they made their way up to the central platform. The crackling reports of a thousand camera flashes peppered the dimly-lit hall, and for the first time, Wally felt a twinge of nervous anxiety.

But it came and went. Millions of viewers were looking at him expectantly, and he was going to give them what they wanted. A show worthy of the Justice League.

* * *

"It is friggin' freezing!" Vicki hissed to herself rubbing the goosebumps in her bare shoulders as her body tried to acclimate to the artificial chill of industrial sized air conditioners.

"Hot mic," her executive producer warned in her ear. "Five seconds."

"Oh, bite me I said 'friggin', not fu-"

"Three seconds, still hot mic."

"Then bleep me I don't give a- _Aaaaand_ welcome back! This is VIcki Vale of the Gotham Gaze, inside Kane Hall where none other than the Flash is set to kick off the night's events. Most of the panelists and guests have taken their seats, and it seems that all we're waiting for is the man of the hour. When will the Batman show? Bruce Wayne has, of course, promised the full participation of Gotham's Dark Knight. Though Bruce also seems to be unaccounted for. . ."

She let the innuendo trail off, hoping that it had been subtle enough to get past her producers.

"Vicki, I swear to god. . ." her earpiece crackled. "Knock it off with the conspiracy theories or the only beat you'll be covering will have 'Kardashian' as the tagline."

 _Oh well,_ she thought, _it was worth a try. Still, people have to be wondering where Bruce Wayne is, right? And it's not like he can spend the night switching back and forth-_

Her cameraman's eyes suddenly widened, focused just over her left shoulder. She began to pivot and collided into a chest. A very broad, tuxedoed chest.

Bruce Wayne's chest.

"Good evening," said the smiling playboy billionaire. He had a twinkle in his eye, a dimple in his cheek, and a five-hundred thousand dollar watch on his wrist. At that moment, Donald Trump would have made a more believable Batman. Bruce Wayne looked the model of innocence.

He winked at her.

 _Well maybe not innocence_ , Vicki thought, annoyed that he thought the fake Hollywood charm would work on her. _Fat chance. I've interviewed Brad, Tom, both Colins and all four Chrises._ She took a step back and noted the overhead mic being subtly repositioned to capture their conversation. _Good job guys._

"Ladies and gentlemen, I may have spoken too soon. Billionaire and philanthropist Bruce Wayne joins us in the press box, live for an unscheduled interview."

"Not a very long one, I'm afraid," Bruce said magnanimously. "After all, Batman is set to arrive any moment. I just came over because I happened to hear my name and thought it might help to properly introduce myself."

"We've been introduced."

His baritone seemed to get even bariton-ier. "Not properly."

Vicki ignored the suggestive eyebrow raises her cameraman was throwing at her, as well as the natural breathlessness she imagined most women felt on the receiving end of Bruce Wayne's flirtation.

But she was not most women. And she suddenly had an idea. "Bruce, I'd love it if you'd stay here for Batman's arrival. She fluttered her eyebrows for added effect. _Two can play that game._

His smile lost a fraction of its luster. "Well, I'd love to VIcki but I should really take my seat-"

"Oh please," she pressed, placing a hand on his forearm. I'm sure the millions of viewers at home would love to see your take on the Caped Crusader's grand entrance."

"Which will be at any moment now, Ms. Vale. I really must go."

 _Gotcha,_ she thought. "Even with hashtag-BruceWayneisBatman trending three different social media platforms?" Vicki lied. As soon as she said it she knew she'd crossed a line. But, as her EP was so fond of reminding her it was a hot mic.

Besides, the beauty of this particular lie was that _now_ #BruceWayneIsBatman would be trending regardless.

She expected a lot of reactions from Bruce, but not what she got. Laughter, full of pure, unbridled mirth.

"Ms. Vale," he allowed between chortles, "are you honestly insinuating that _I_ might be Batman?"

"Of course not, but the rumors abound."

"Rumors also abound that I'm in the Illuminati, or that I'm secretly gay."

"Are you?"

"Yes," Bruce replied deadpan without missing a beat.

"On the record?"

"I'm kidding."

"Are you the Batman?"

"No, and I can prove it."

"How?"

Bruce pointed to the dais. "That's how."

* * *

At the front of the room, The Flash watched in amazement as Batman- _the_ Batman- emerged from backstage and into the spotlight. His stride was fluid and graceful, like a panther. His cape glided behind him and his cowl betrayed no emotion. The room went silent, and million people either won or lost bets with themselves. Would the Batman show up?

The answer was yes.

He took his seat between the podium and the dais, the couch a large teardrop shaped piece of modern art that looked absolutely ridiculous until Batman calmly seated himself. More hushed whispers. No one had any idea what to expect. For that matter, neither did he. He'd prepared jokes and anecdotes for the occasion, but he had little experience delivering prepared remarks. Most of his jokes were off-the-cuff and spontaneous. True, they overwhelmingly bombed, but that was his comfort zone.

But this was for a good cause. A _very_ good cause, unbeknownst to most of the attendees. So he would tell his jokes and who knew, he might even get a laugh or two.

He turned to Batman who didn't smile, but _did_ give the barest of nods. Otherwise, he might as well have been at the helm of one of the Javelins. He turned to Wally, allowing a pause before finally speaking. "Let's get on with it."

"Hello Gotham!" Wally exulted. "Man is it great to be back here. I mean, sure it's dingy and dark but. . .well, no that's about it. I mean seriously, what's up with the weather in this city? It's like 30 days of night, did you guys pass an ordinance outlawing sunlight or something?" There were polite chuckles, already a step up from the normal groans and eye rolls that followed his quips.

"But really, this is a great city and I'm so lucky to be here in the presence of this _who's who_ of superheroes. I mean that literally by the way- no one knows who the hell most of you are, sorry. So before we proceed, some introductions are probably in order. I am the Flash, your humble host for the evening and tour guide through the uncharted waters of a superhero roast. Yes, you heard me correctly, we are going to attempt to do the impossible. We are going to try to make fun of people who run around in spandex and call themselves things like. . ." he gave a longsuffering sigh, "'Bwana Beast."

He paused to find B'Wana Beast in the crowd before continuing. "Hey buddy!"

"Yo!" B'Wana Beast was in full costume, which pretty much translated to full undress. Mask, trunks, and boots. He was in the front row between Dr. Light and Zatanna, neither of whom looked particularly pleased with the seating arrangement. Peals of laughter sounded from the audience as the camera panned to capture B'Wana Beast in all his dubious glory.

"Man, where to start. . ." Flash began, scratching his head. "I thought roasting Batman would be a challenge, but you? What's there to say, really, about a guy who comes to a formal event dressed like Male Stripper-Bane. You're half naked dude! Star-Sapphire's watching right now like 'have some decency! Cover up!'

"But as I was saying, B'wana Beast here is one of the newer League members, and his main powers are- and I promise these are from our official files." Wally began ticking off fingers. "Merging animals together, tracking people across long distances, and dodging H.R. complaints." His deadpan delivery earned widespread chuckles. "Seriously dude, no more asking the sanitation staff if they want to tame your beast."

B'wana Beast, who had never known a day of shame in his life, laughed the loudest of them all.

Flash's gaze swiveled. "I see that The Question is also here! For those who don't know, he's the guy waaay in the back with no face. He's also responsible for some of the Justice League's. . _. lesser known_ victories. Not against, like, supervillains or anything. But thanks to this super-sleuth we did manage to figure out why kids love the taste of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. So, you know, if Batman ever takes a sick day, at least we've got that. . ."

The audience laughed as peripheral screens zoomed in on Question and his date, Huntress. His face was unreadable as ever, while Huntress flashed a brilliant white smile and proudly-erected middle finger at the stage.

"Alright, enough about the audience" Flash continued. "Back into obscurity you go. It is now my pleasure to introduce the evening's assistant roastmasters in descending order of hotness. So if Killer Croc would come to the stage. . ."

The audience groaned at the zinger, which Wally might have deserved. Killer Croc was actually pretty nice for a supervillain. Nonetheless, Wally pretended to wait for Killer Croc for a few seconds before moving on. "I jest, I jest! First up we have J'onn Jonzz but feel free to call him JJ for short, he loves that. He's an alien, but compared to the Kryptonians and Thanagarians he's basically our next door neighbor in the Milky Way. This guy's powers include but are not limited to: flight, intangibility, telepathy, telekinesis, super-strength, and shape-shifting. That's right, he can literally create any clothing he wants with a thought, and he _still_ chooses to wear. . .that." The screen showed J'onn calmly seated on the dais in his customary cape, trunks, boots. . .and not much else. "Seriously, you and B'Wana Beast would be a hit on the bachelorette party circuit."

* * *

Vicki plastered a smile over her disappointment, which didn't stem from Flash's lame jokes but rather the demolishing of her nascent theory that perhaps the simultaneous appearance of Batman and Bruce could be explained by Martian shapeshifting trickery. The Manhunter was present and accounted for.

"If you'll excuse me," Bruce whispered in her ear before stealing off toward backstage. She let the cocky bastard go. One way or another, she was going to find out what was _really_ going on. And she would do it by the end of the night.

* * *

Author's Note:

So I actually had this idea for this two or three-shot piece waaay back in 2011 when I was watching the Comedy Central Roast of Charlie Sheen. Naturally, my mind began to wander to what if scenarios. Like what if all the Justice League superheroes got together and had a roast? On primetime television. . .

The victim was a no-brainer. Batman, without a doubt, had the most interesting potential. How crazy would it be to see a guy who takes himself so seriously let his guard down and accept some gentle (and not-so-gentle ) ribbing?

The roastmaster? Flash, of course. He's at home in this kind of situation, and his jokes come a mile a minute.

I've never written comedy and you could probably make the case that this fic doesn't change that, but I did try to generate some situations that would never happen in the normal ecosystem of the DCAU. Wonder Woman and Catwoman powdering their noses backstage? I think that what makes any superhero story (or story in general) interesting is throwing characters into novel situations and watching how they adapt. Or don't.

So yes, it's a wacky premise. Which is why I didn't post it or continue i when I first wrote it. But it's fun to write! If you're readings this, then 1) Thanks!, and 2) feel free to drop a review and let me know what you think of this premise.

P.S.: Canon-wise, this is set with one foot firmly in the DCAU Justice League series. Vicki Vale's inclusion is the exception, and she's more of an audience surrogate I want to get a look at these characters and events from the 'ground level', so to speak


End file.
